Full Assault Mode

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We had just climbed the Madrassa’s high dirt wall on a moonless summer night. With my teammate, codenamed Happ, and our Air Force Combat Controller, we quietly but smoothly cleared the three upper floor rooms before we heard the tell-tale signature of three rapid-fired supersonic 5.56mm rounds from outside the compound.

They know we’re here now.

Thinking over the options, maneuvering to help or holding what we had, I thumb-pressed my hand mike.

“You good out there?”

“Roger, we’re good!” said another operator from outside the compound.

It was a suspected layover spot along a known al Qaeda rat line just a couple of miles from the Pakistan border in the lawless border town of Shkin. My boss, Colonel Gus Murdock, wasn’t too keen on green-lighting the hit that night, but he understood our concern and, like all good commanders, he always trusted the guys on the ground. And even though he yielded, giving us execute authority a half hour earlier, I think he knew we would have figured out a way to launch anyway.

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